Dreams of a Perfect World
by starlightsonata495
Summary: Perfectworldshipping prompt fill collection
1. Sycamore wearing only his lab coat

Prompt: Sycamore wearing only his lab coat, nothing else.

for f1rstperson

Augustine deliberately defies basic lab safety.

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><p>"Bonjour, Lysandre!" <em>Oh, this was going to be good.<em>

"Bonjour, August—oh."

"Yes? What is it?" Augustine asked, faking nonchalance as much as one could while wearing nothing but a lab coat.

"Well," said Lysandre drily, "you appear to be missing a few items of clothing."

"So I am! I must be getting more absentminded by the day!" Augustine replied, waving his hand airily. "At least I remembered my lab coat, hmm? For lab safety and all?"

"That doesn't seem terribly safe."

"Oh, well. I think it looks very fashionable on me, don't you think?"

"That's…one way of putting it. Still doesn't seem terribly practical for lab work," Lysandre said, and Augustine smirked as he saw the man's fists clenching.

"Would you prefer me to be 'safer', then?" he asked, batting his eyelashes at Lysandre and giving him a coy little grin.

"What I would 'prefer'," Lysandre growled, moving suddenly and pinning his wrists to the wall, "is for you take off this ridiculous lab coat. If you're so intent on wearing it for 'lab safety' purposes, as you claim, then you wouldn't want it to get all dirty now, would you?"

"Why, is there a reason it's going to get dirty?" Augustine asked innocently, gasping as Lysandre leaned down to nip at the side of his throat.

"Well, if you're going to be like that…" said Lysandre, pulling back to stare at him like a predator eyeing its prey. "Then let's see how long you can keep your lab coat 'clean', shall we?"

Augustine could only gulp in response.


	2. Suggestive pastry eating

Prompt: Sycamore and Lysandre go café hopping! (and then they do the frickle fackle?)

for doodlecemetery

Lysandre eats an éclair.

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><p>"So what do you think of this café?"<p>

"Mmm…" sighed Lysandre as he sipped his drink, making a show of looking all around the venue. "Passable, I suppose. Though their décor needs a little work. Perhaps some more red…"

Augustine merely laughed in response. "Always the red with you! Not everything has to be red, you know!"

"Mmm."

"…You're not listening to me, are you?"

"I'm sorry, what was that?" said Lysandre, setting down his coffee and picking up his éclair.

"Never mind," Augustine sighed, "I know a losing battle when I see one."

"Indeed," Lysandre agreed, bringing the éclair near his lips and taking a small bite.

"How's your chocolate éclair?"

"Pleasant enough, I suppose," he said, darting his tongue out daintily to lick at the cream coming out of the sweet treat.

"…Do you have to eat it like that?"

"Like what?" Lysandre replied, putting more of the pastry into his mouth and slowly biting another piece off.

"Like…like…"

"Yes? Go on." He licked delicately at the chocolate on the side.

"You know what I mean!"

"Alas, I am afraid I do not. Perhaps if you made yourself more clear?" Lysandre said, popping the bitten end of the pastry into his mouth, tongue teasing out the white cream inside.

"Now that's just indecent," Augustine grumbled, covering his flushed face with one hand as he pointedly looked away.

"Mmm…" he teased.

"All right," said Augustine, leaning in across the table, "you want me to be more clear? Well then, I'll be clear. When we are done here, we are going straight home. And when we get home, you are going to show me what else that mouth can do. Am I _clear_?"

"Crystal," Lysandre said with a smirk, licking his lips pointedly.

"Oh, mon Dieu, what have I gotten myself into?" Augustine groaned, clapping a hand to his forehead.

"One could call it…a _sticky_ situation."

"Lysandre!"

Lysandre just laughed.


	3. Cuddling under a blanket

Prompt: It's movie night, but it's freezing, so they collect all the blankets and comforters and build a nest on the couch and snuggle and eat dessert uwu

for anon

Cuddling on the couch with a disgruntled Pyroar is the best way to warm up.  
>As a side note, this entire chapter started when I imagined Sycamore saying "It's cold as balls".<p>

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><p>"It's freezing!" Augustine complained, shivering over on his side of the couch.<p>

"Well, maybe if you'd chosen to wear something warmer than that ridiculous shirt—"

"Hey! This shirt is very stylish, I'll have you know! Just look at this fabulous collar!"

"Stylish or not," Lysandre replied, restraining himself from commenting further on Augustine's 'style', "it is clearly far too thin for these kinds of temperatures. Don't you have any warmer clothes?"

Augustine pouted. "I did, but you forbade me from wearing them in your presence."

"They were Christmas sweaters, Augustine. _Christmas sweaters._ Ugly, hideous monstrosities that should—"

"—be set on fire and left to burn, so that you will never have to suffer from their hideousness blinding your eyes ever again, yeah, yeah, I know. So here I am, tragically sweater-less and freezing in your lovely home. Can't you turn up the heat or something?"

"No."

"But, Lysaaaannnddreeee—"

"No."

"Fine," said Augustine, crossing his arms and turning away with a huff.

For a few moments it was silent, save for the sounds of the television.

"Lysandre…"

He sighed. "Yes, Augustine?"

"It's cold."

"_Augustine._"

"Cold as balls."

"Don't be vulgar."

"But I'm _cold_!" Augustine whined, rubbing his arms theatrically.

"Deal with it."

"Fine!"

And with that, Lysandre had one shivering, lanky professor plastered to his side, sighing in contentment as he hugged Lysandre's arm to his chest.

"…What are you doing?" he asked, completely nonplussed.

"What does it look like? You said 'deal with it', so I'm dealing with it!"

"By doing…what, exactly?"

"Gravitating towards a heat source, of course!" said Augustine, laying his head on Lysandre's shoulder and snuggling up to him. "Mmm, warm…"

"I am not your personal heater, Augustine," said Lysandre, doing his best to sound completely unamused.

"You are now!" Augustine replied cheerfully, curling up and pressing his body even closer. "Aaahhhh…I always knew you were secretly a Pyroar…"

"Augustine, you're being ridicu—"

"Shush, Pyroar," Augustine commanded, stuffing an apple strudel into Lysandre's half-open mouth. "Eat your dessert and cuddle with me."

""I do not _cuddle,_" said Lysandre after he'd removed the offending pastry from his mouth.

"Awww, why not?" Augustine cooed, nuzzling into the fur on Lysandre's collar. "Big fuzzy Pyroar like you, you're just perfect for snuggling with."

Lysandre sighed, resigning himself to being subjected to this unusual form of torment for the rest of the movie at the very least, and leaned over to pull a blanket out from a basket underneath the couch.

"You had a blanket this whole time and you didn't tell me?"

"Hush, tree," said Lysandre, draping the blanket over the both of them, "or I'll set you on fire."

"Ooh, sound exciting! Just how do you plan to light me up then, hmm? Are you going to use the flames of your 'burning passion'?"

"_Augustine,"_ he chided, feeling his cheeks warming slightly despite himself.

"Fine, fine," Augustine said with a laugh, sliding his arms around Lysandre's waist and squeezing like he was some sort of oversized stuffed toy. "Mmm…so warm…and cuddly…I think I could just fall asleep…"

"Don't you dare."

"Mmm…" Augustine sighed, ignoring him completely as he snuggled up happily to Lysandre's broad chest.

Lysandre made a put-upon face, but there was no one around to see it, anyway.

And if his arm just happened to slip around Augustine's shoulders as he drifted off? Well…there was no one around to see that, either.


	4. Augustine survives the ultimate weapon

Prompt: ((If you doin' prompts... how about a AU where Augustine just happened to survive the weapon))

for conflagratingeidolon

(Pokémon Y alternate ending)

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><p>The world is burning.<p>

Everywhere he looks, flames. Destruction. Death. The horrific blooming of an insane plan, the flowering of the ambitions of one deranged man.

And that deranged man is his _friend._

No. _Was_ his friend. He can't let sentiment get in his way, now.

"Lysandre!" he cries out, choking a bit on the thick, dark smoke curling in the air around them. "How could you do this? I thought you wanted to make the world a better place!"

"And I have, haven't I?" the man—because _that_ person is not Lysandre, it can't be, Lysandre would never do something like this, it can't be it can't be it _can't—_

"_This_ is your idea of a beautiful world?!" he somehow manages to choke out despite the smoke invading his lungs and the desperate, drowning feeling in his heart.

"Indeed," the _man_ replies. "Now, there will be enough resources to go around. No one will have to fight for such things any more. No wars will be fought ever again, and no more people or Pokémon will be forced to suffer through such atrocities."

"Because you _killed _them!" he screeches, jabbing a finger at the man accusingly. "That was your brilliant solution? Do you know how many innocent lives were lost?"

The man sighs heavily. "I would not have done such a thing if there was another way, believe me. I did what I had to do."

"Like hell you did! What happened to wanting to help people? You killed them all before they had a chance to change!"

"Oh Augustine, Augustine, Augustine," the man says, shaking his head with a laugh that sends chills down Augustine's spine. "How dreadfully naïve of you. If it were that simple, our troubles would have ended long ago. But that was far from the case, don't you see? It was all for the best, in the end…"

Augustine feels sick to his stomach, eyes stinging (from the smoke, he tells himself) as he looks up into the cold blue eyes of the stranger standing before him. _Run, and never look back, _he tells himself, but his legs seem to be made of lead. His heart is throbbing relentlessly, and his tongue tastes like ashes in his mouth. _Leave him. Leave, and never look back. _Lys—the man starts walking closer, and Augustine can only stare in wide-eyed panic, trembling where he stands. _Run. Hide. Get away from him, get away, stay away stay away don't come any closer please please no stop come back to me, LYSANDRE, PLEASE—_

"There, there, Augustine," the man with his best friend's face says, embracing him and rubbing soothing circles into his back, holding Augustine as his body is wracked with tremors and tears begin to flow uncontrollably down his ash-stained cheeks. "You're part of a new world now. A perfect, beautiful world. Isn't it wonderful?"

Augustine says nothing, clutching desperately at the fabric of the man's jacket as he buries his face in the man's shoulder to muffle his sobs. He returns the embrace, standing amidst the fire and death and destruction, clinging to this man like he is an anchor and Augustine is a tiny rowboat lost in a roaring, turbulent sea.

Because he is weak, in the end, and this stranger with Lysandre's face is better than having no Lysandre at all.


	5. Lysandre returns after the events of XY

AU, Lysandre returns after the events of X/Y

May be extended to something longer later

* * *

><p>The first thing Augustine does when Lysandre comes back is punch him in the face.<p>

Lysandre makes no move to defend himself, merely standing there and letting himself get knocked back by the force of the blow. He returns to his original position as Augustine steps back, just as expressionless as he was when he first came in.

The second thing Augustine does is give voice to every previously unspoken thought he's had since that final Holo Caster message. It starts off quiet and subdued at first, but soon escalates into full-out screaming, yelling at Lysandre for being such an _idiot_, pleading with him to explain _why_, letting all the thoughts and emotions he'd kept ruthlessly subdued burst out into the open, rushing out in a torrent of grief and betrayal and regret.

The third thing Augustine does is kiss him.

He kisses him because he has no other words left, because he needs Lysandre to _understand_, because he is tired of seeing the lack of emotion on that terrible, beautiful face, the one that haunts his dreams on the nights when he is feeling particularly alone.

(It's almost all the nights, nowadays.)

Lysandre looks stunned as they break apart. _Good_, he thinks viciously, even as tears begin to well up in his eyes. _Good_, he thinks as Lysandre looks down at him helplessly, even as tears begin to spill down his own cheeks. _Good_, he thinks, even as his body is wracked with sobs and he clings to the front of Lysandre's shirt like a child seeking comfort, pressing his face into Lysandre's chest and placing a hand over his heart so he can feel it, so he knows that Lysandre is here, really here, warm and breathing and _alive_, and that he's not going to just disappear every time he wakes up again with his arm outstretched and a desperate plea dying on his lips. Distantly, he feels the sensation of strong arms wrapping awkwardly around his thin frame, and it's pathetic how much he takes comfort in the feeling of Lysandre's arms around him, in the familiar scent that invades his nostrils with each deep, shuddering breath.

"I hate you," he says hoarsely, not even caring how much of a mess he must look and sound like.

"I know," says Lysandre.

"You're a bastard and an idiot and I should never speak to you again."

"I know."

"I've missed you," he says, voice cracking as he pulls back to look Lysandre in the eye. "Stay with me. Please. Don't leave me alone again."

"I…"

"Stay?" he begs, looking up at Lysandre with big, watery eyes.

"…I'll stay," says Lysandre.

Maybe one day, they'll have a proper talk about everything. Maybe they won't ever talk about it.

But for now, Lysandre is back, and this is enough for him.


	6. Lysandra succeeds

For 'anon', who expressed a desire for unstable Lysandra

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><p>The ultimate weapon is beautiful, really, in its own morbid way. A crystalline instrument of mass destruction, a flower blooming with oh so much potential. So much potential, in those cold, hard petals—the seductive call of the power to change the world. Much like the potential those young protégés of Augustine's had…but, alas, they, too, must succumb to the ravages of fate. She had given them, these <em>chosen<em> ones, ample opportunity to stop her. But in the end, it had not been enough. It is she, in the end, who has triumphed. Her, whose convictions burn hotter than their pathetic little flames ever could.

She smiles, and everything comes tumbling down, all the selfishness, all the greed, all the useless violence. All the rest of those filthy, pathetic humans. Gone now. No more. They have no place in this new world that she's built.

"Look at it," she cries, laughing hysterically as she makes a grand, sweeping gesture with one arm.

Augustine merely stares at her mutely, mouth gaping and face covered in ash.

"Look at it!" she demands, grabbing his shoulders with both of her gloved hands and forcefully spinning him around. Slowly, of course, so as to savour the wonderful, wonderful sight before them. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Augustine, still, makes no sound, perhaps struck dumb by her actions. He lets himself get dragged around by her, making no attempts to resist, limp as a ragdoll in her unrelenting grip.

"Look at me," she says, and he violently shakes his head. "Look at me," she says, voice rising, spinning him around to face her. Still, he refuses to lift his head, hands curled into trembling fists at his sides. "Look. At. _Me!_" she practically screams, grabbing his chin and forcing it upwards, forcing him to reveal every emotion flickering across that broken, beautiful face. Tears glint like glass shards on his cheeks, carving jagged trails through the greyness of the ashes on his skin. It's grey all around them, now, the grey of the smoke and the grey of the sky and the beautiful, beautiful blue-grey of his eyes, overflowing with tears and drenched in grief and betrayal, staring at her like she's ripped the soul right out of them.

"Beautiful," she whispers, cupping his cheeks in almost a parody of tenderness. "Beautiful," she whispers, digging her nails into his soft, supple skin, making marks through the layers of ash and dust and tears blurred together on his face. "Beautiful," she whispers, even as he lets out a choked, gasping sob, dragging his face forward and pressing her lips to his own.

She kisses him, and the world falls down around their feet.


	7. Denial

Fem!Lysandre/Fem!Sycamore alternate ending, the ultimate weapon fires

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><p>Augustin is beautiful, so beautiful, and Lysandra cannot imagine a world without her but she also cannot begin to imagine a world where everyone continues to suffer like this.<p>

If Augustin will not join her, then so be it. She will burn like the rest of them so that the world may be saved. She cannot let personal attachment interfere with this plan for the greater good.

When the weapon fires, she wonders, briefly, just what she has done.

After it is over, after everything is done and the region is filled with dead people and Pokémon alike, she wraps one of Augustin's labcoats around her shoulders and stares unblinkingly at the wreckage of Lumiose. She does not cry, and she does not scream. She merely stands there, still and silent as a statue, until the last rays of sunlight begin to fade away.

She does not curl up on her bed that night with Augustin's labcoat clutched to her chest, and she definitely does not dream terrible, haunting dreams of dark curls and sparkling grey eyes and an achingly familiar voice trembling with laughter. She does not bolt upright, panting and wild-eyed, cheeks unaccountably wet and mouth tasting of ash.

But most of all, she does not regret.

Not a single thing.


End file.
